Iruka's Problem
by eminem288
Summary: Irukai has problems. LET THE LEMONS ROLL!


Iruka sat on the toilet looking at the bloody toilet paper in shock. His anus or something inside was bleeding. So it really was possible to tear yourself and not know it, hell, to come wildly when it was happening or had happened. Dammit! This was humiliating! Today was the first day of December, and he hadn't had sex since June—not June of this year, June of the previous year. So he was masturbating like crazy. Masturbating till he bleed.

Obviously, the big blue dildo was a mistake. But even now lying on a towel on his bed in case a little blood dripped out of him, his ass felt good—spread wide, fluttery, and, well, a little wet, and yes, there was a little stinging. But it wasn't like he was into pain—no, it really hadn't hurt other than that one millisecond shock when he'd forced himself down on that monster, frustrated that he couldn't insert it lying on his back. God, I'm an idiot! But at least now he felt no further need to masturbate—well, it was about time. He'd gotten himself off enough times today, what was it? Four? Five times?

Except it hadn't been enough, not nearly enough, and that was what had led to the blue dildo, the two and a half inch wide dildo. He'd tried masturbating, he'd tried chocolate. He'd pigged out on cheese. It didn't matter what food it was anymore-any food he fancied wasn't enough to kill the need for his body to feel pleasure, fucking-I-can't-take-one-bit-more pleasure. And masturbating again and again wasn't helping anymore either. So he'd decided that today was the day he'd finally get that big wide blue thing inside him, no matter what. He should have taken his time, inserting one dildo, then another, building up to it. But he'd just wanted—no, he'd needed—to feel something more, something stronger, something to take away the constant desire. He'd needed that something fast, and he'd been too impatient. So after just a minute or two of popping the head of his next-to-the-biggest toy in and out of him and pushing his fingers in and spreading them wide, he'd lubed that fat two and one quarter inch head up and sat on it.

After he'd cleaned the toys, pulled on some shorts, Iruka wandered out of his bedroom into his living room, looking out the sliding doors of his balcony at the clouds. The little bowl of cat food he kept on the balcony was empty—empty just like him. Damn, but his strays shouldn't have empty stomachs just because he was horny. Horny—he was worse than horny—he was lonely, sad, and desperate. Iruka got the tub of cat food from the kitchen and slid open the door. After filling it, he leaned on the railing, just staring at the clouds, sighing. It was time to take a trip out of town, a trip just so he could get fucked by a stranger. Because he couldn't do it here—there was always someone watching him. The sound of feet landing behind him, made him sigh. Yup, always someone watching.

"Now, Iruka, you haven't even heard what I'm going to say, so sighing already is rude."

Startled Iruka turned around. Usually it was his students or the jounin sensei's of former students that would drop in if he lingered too long on his balcony. But Ibiki was neither and had never visited him before.

"I think, given the spots on your shorts, it's time we had a talk," said Ibiki.

Could anything be more humiliating? Well, yes, Iruka admitted to himself honestly as his mind suddenly conjured up things more embarrassing. But having Ibiki talk to you about your masturbation habits, well, that ranked up there in the top ten.

But by the time Ibiki had left, Iruka was beyond embarrassment, beyond shock, just, beyond, blown away, in another state. In front of him on his kitchen table was a red cat bowl. A cat bowl he would never use again. Should never use again. Would try never to use again. Would never use until he was at risk of masturbating himself till he bled. A red catbowl—it might as well be a red light, thought Iruka crossly. Yes, anger felt good. How dare Ibiki tempt him like that! He wasn't a gay prostitute, and that was basically what Ibiki wanted him to be. Hah! Poor single gay guys in ANBU needing to fuck! Yeah, right!

But then Iruka couldn't help but think of the condition of some of the jounins when they came back from A and S-class missions. The shut down, scary stillness—how much worse would it be for ANBU guys? And then the fear, yes, few people could enjoy a fuck with someone they feared. How the hell had Ibiki figured out that he wouldn't be afraid of someone in that state fucking him-well, duh, of course, he was Ibiki! So all Iruka had to do was put out the red cat bowl when he was horny, and if a horny gay ANBU guy was free and saw it, he'd come in.

No need for Iruka to get up and open the door, of course. And if the mask came off, a darkness jutsu had to be in place. Recognition wasn't to be acknowledged if it occurred, despite masks and darkness. Konoha's security, the whole ANBU system, required anonymity. So no one to complain to parents, no one who would want dates or make Iruka come out of the closet, who would put his teaching job at risk in a world where gayness was accepted, but not in my backyard, nor in my son's classroom. The perfect solution to Iruka's problem. God dammit!

The cat bowl sat on the table the next day. Every time Iruka looked at it he couldn't help but think about being fucked—fucked hard and ruthlessly by a man on the edge, a man needing to feel flesh, to burn away memories with the feel of another body welcoming him inside. Iruka couldn't help it—he found himself trying to push the smallest dildo inside him. It hurt a bit. Dammit! Until it didn't hurt, he couldn't put the bowl out! And he was honest enough to admit he wanted to—Ibiki, well, Ibiki had certainly made a strong case.

"Your work suffers, Iruka, when your needs build up like this. If you were your own student, what would you tell yourself? I'd have approached you sooner, but you were handling it well before. But if you are going to start hurting yourself, well, hell, that wouldn't happen with the men I would let come to you."

Lovers—no sex partners—hand picked by Ibiki! The world was coming to an end! And he, Iruka sensei, was giving into the madness—he wanted that hand-picked lover, wanted to feel his asshole stretched around a cock, not a dildo. But if a small dildo hurt, well, no sex today.

The next day was Monday, and that meant back to the academy. Iruka forgot about the bowl—most of the time—trying to catch up on all the things he hadn't done over the weekend. On Tuesday, on Wednesday, just like Monday, there were scrolls to grade, lessons to plan, and all that went with his job. But it wasn't enough to fill twenty-four hours of the day. There seemed to be a lot of time to fantasize about gloved hands touching him, bare hands touching him, lips touching him, a cock filling him . . . But Iruka wasn't going to start having sex on a school night. No, he wouldn't. That was why he had toys, after all. The red bowl sat empty on Iruka's table.

And finally Friday—finally the students were gone—finally he was home. It was still light out, and he didn't care. The red bowl was in Iruka's hands, and he was out on the patio so fast he forgot that he hadn't filled the bowl with food. And when he turned around to go back inside and fill it, there was an ANBU nin between him and the door.

"That was quick," said Iruka, his eyes scanning the nin from his feet to his head. Oh, god, he was male, so male, his shoulders so bare, that neck seeming so long, and the fierce cat mask of green and red—so appropriate! Iruka's mouth curved into a smile. The nin's brown hair looked thick, shaggy. Iruka wondered if he would get to push his hands into it, to pull that head down for a kiss. He licked his lips.

"My need is urgent," said the nin.

Iruka's body shivered, and he said in voice that revealed his own desire despite his effort to make it light, casual, "In heat, Neko-chan? Then let's go inside."

The answer was feeling those gloved hands on him, and then being inside his bedroom so fast it seemed simultaneous with his suggestion. Then the hands pried the red bowl from his own, setting it down. They formed the seal for darkness, and Iruka gasped. Was he ready for this? Maybe this was a big mistake—oh, god, he could kiss, Neko-chan could kiss! And yes, that hair, that hair felt good under his fingers. But there were too many clothes, this thick vest, the gloves with the shields, those pants—but when the kiss broke, it was Iruka's clothes that came off first.

There in the darkness, Iruka felt gloved hands all over him: pulling down his hair, clawing through it; feeling his scars—taking their time with the one on his nose and back, but then finding each and every other one, sliding over his body. And his nipples, his cock, his balls, his ass, his anus—the touch of those gloves as the hands checked each one, left each part wanting more.

"Please," Iruka whispered, "take them off, let me feel your skin."

The gloved hands dropped away, and there was silence. Iruka couldn't sense any movement, and guilt washed over him. With a whimper in his voice, he said softly, "I'm sorry, whatever you need; it's ok. I understand not wanting to, ah—"

"I'm honored you want to touch me naked, Sensei, but can you do it with me inside you, on your back?"

"Yes, please!"

"Call me Neko-chan again, Sensei, let that be your name for me," urged the voice in the dark.

Was that the sound of his drawer being opened?

"Neko-chan, please!" whispered Iruka.

And then his back hit the bed with a satisfying force, and a finger slid in him, wet, slick, and, best of all, human—alive, moving, probing!

"Oh, god, yes! Neko-chan, more! Please, I need it, I need it!" Iruka heard himself begging in a whisper and began a lecture in his head to himself—stop it, Iruka, don't be pathetic, don't be slutty.

But when he heard a groan from his ANBU warrier, the lecture abruptly went silent. The second finger inside him felt so wonderful that Iruka arched and let out a soft cry. Yes, Ibiki was right, so right—this was what he needed. And to know that he was needed urgently, that made it even better. He found himself whispering again, spilling out things because there was finally someone there, someone to listen, someone who needed to know that he wasn't alone either. "Oh god, so good, so good! Neko-chan, my needs are as urgent as yours. You, I, oh god, your fingers aren't enough. Please, please."

But he only added another, pushing them in and out, stretching, but he said Iruka's name for the first time—said it the way Iruka has been dreaming about for over a year—rough, needy, passionate. "Iruka!"

That was enough to make Iruka impatient, "Put your cock in me, now, Neko-chan, please! Please, fuck me, fuck me, now! I want you, please! Oh, god, oh god, so good, so good! I'm ready, I'm ready, I swear! Please, please, dammit, please!"

"I don't want to tear you, Iruka, so please, god, please, shut up, be quiet for me, wait for me, just another minute, another little bit."

"He told you? Did he tell everyone? That bastard!" Iruka felt anger overcoming desire. "What did Ibiki say?"

"Iruka, all Ibiki said was that the one anyone who hurt you, who tore you, would never be let near you again. He would also personal reproduce the injury on the idiot multiple times to make sure the lesson was learned. Having tasted your kiss, having heard your whispers, how could I ever do anything to risk never tasting you, never hearing you again?"

Dear god, who could hear that and not forgive the speaker anything? This ANBU nin with all his urgent needs was holding himself back for Iruka. Oh, how cruel I was—tempting him, urging him to risk such a punishment. Iruka's protective instincts awoke. Ibiki tear this man with the gentle fingers? Ibiki tearing Neko-chan? No! Iruka tried to will his anus to stretch, to open, to take the three fingers pushing in him, to spread for them, welcome them. And focusing on how those fingers felt, he couldn't help but whisper, "Your fingers feel so good stretching me wide, stretching me so well, so gently. You are kind and gentle, Neko-chan, but you don't have to be when you are inside me. If you need to—"

"Iruka," groaned the man kneeling between his legs, sounding in pain, desperate. Suddenly Iruka remembered his plea to be quiet, to wait, and he opened his mouth to apologize, but shut it, realizing his illogic in time.

But being quiet while lying in an artificial dark, being stretched by a stranger, a stranger who was going to fuck him—oh, god, it was almost too much. But he wasn't really a stranger. No, he was Neko-chan, the cat-masked shinobi who had urgent needs. He was a good man, a kind man, Neko-chan, Iruka knew. He didn't have to take off his clothes, his mask; he didn't have to kiss me. He could have simply pulled my pants down and stretched me, turned me around, fucked me—yes, instead of this slow finger fucking, this steady spreading, this sweet torture, knowing that soon he'll enter me, and I can touch him, kiss him, taste him, drink in that rich woody taste of his mouth, hinting of a wine aged in oak for thirty years or more . . .

The fingers were suddenly gone, and that voice said, "Iruka, do you still—"

"Now, Neko-chan, now!" ordered Iruka loudly, forgetting to be quiet, forgetting everything but that finally, finally—a cock was inside him!

"Neko-chan!" he cried, his arms flying up and wrapping themselves around the body above him. Their mouths met, and Iruka kissed and sucked on that face, his hands seizing that thick hair when Neko-chan tried to lift his head away. This, oh, god, he'd missed kissing even more than fucking! No one had ever kissed him like this, no one had ever tasted so good—dammit! No one had ever jerked their head away—oh god, his need was indeed urgent. So fast, so hard, so perfect!

"Forgive me, Iruka," he heard as an ungloved hand tightened around his cock. Forgive? Forgive? He was going to come, going to come soon, going to come hard. Yes, oh god, yes, his balls were going to explode, he was going to spray, he couldn't help it.

"Neko-chan!" And even as he came, Iruka felt sorrow starting to fill him. Too soon, it was too soon for this to end.

An incoherent cry above him, the shuddering, and Iruka wanted to cry, felt himself crying. He couldn't help it. His arms pulled the body above him down and wrapped tightly around it. If only they could have done this without a condom! At least then he could have held the cum inside him, touched it, let it run out over his fingers, proving indeed this wasn't a dream. But too soon, the body broke his tight grip, moved away in the darkness. God, he wasn't going to cry, he wasn't such an idiot, he wouldn't beg, this was just fucking, just satisfying needs—

"Please, mark me, Neko-chan," whispered Iruka, his voice quivering, sounding exactly the way he didn't want it sound—like he was crying, like he was heart-broken, like he was foolish enough to think that a soft kiss, a gentle touch, meant something more than what it meant—something more than nothing.

"Anything, Iruka, anything you want that I can give," said the voice.

Oh! A smile curved over Iruka's face—yea, right. What he could give—yes, he was an ANBU regular, so he couldn't give his name, couldn't show his face, couldn't form a relationship, couldn't make promises, and likely couldn't love, wouldn't love. What had Ibiki said? "It's a job that requires you to shut off your heart, cut yourself off from those you love."

"I want a hickey on my chest, on my stomach, on my thigh, so I can look at the mark of your mouth and remember how it felt, remember your kiss, your woody taste, the feel of you thrusting in me. Oh! Yes, that's it, mark me, Neko-chan!"

He was biting and sucking Iruka's left chest, over his heart, his heart that was beating wildly. Iruka thrust his hands into that thick hair one more time, but somehow, he found himself rubbing, massaging the head sucking at him, breaking the blood vessels of his skin. It was like a dream when that mouth moved to his nipple, and he moaned. His cock was hard again, but yes, yes, that was a hard cock against his leg.

"Please, please, one more time," he whispered. But the man licking him simply began to lick down his body, settling down when his mouth was above Iruka's navel. The feel of that chest hair against his cock was maddening, tormenting, wonderful. "Neko-chan, Neko-chan," moaned Iruka, rocking up his hips, pushing his cock up into that body. But the lips sucking and biting on him took their time, and Iruka's hands had time to memorize the shape of Neko-chan's skull, to feel each bump, to learn the texture of his hair.

When at last the head pulled away, Iruka moaned and arched, begging once again, "Please, fuck me again, one more time."

This time, this time, he was answered with a moan as full of desire as his own. This time he didn't have to wait as long—it seemed but a second that he was alone on the bed before hands were positioning him.

They cried out together as Neko-chan's cockhead breached Iruka's anus. "Let me make this one worth remembering," whispered the voice in the darkness.

It was.

How do you forget when the cock inside you seems to massage you in a slow circle? When it tickles your prostate, then slams into it, then tickles it again, in a fast then slow pattern that makes your ass turn into a desperate slut? How can you forget when that tongue tasting of an aged wine fucks your mouth in sinc with that firm cock? When you hang on the edge of orgasm so long that you turn into some crazed thing and curse, snarl, scratch, and demand an orgasm? How can you forget screaming, screaming like an animal when you came?

No, he'd never behaved like that, never. Where had all that come from? "Faster, god dammit, faster!" was bad, but "Make me come now, you fucking bastard or I'll bite your tongue off?" Iruka rolled over on his stomach, ashamed, when Neko-chan finally pulled out of him and moved away.

"I can't give you that hickey on your thigh you wanted if you lie face down. Do you still want it? Do you want something else? Water? A massage? Your hair brushed?" One set of bare fingers was gently tracing the scar on his back as if memorizing it while the other stroked his ass slowly. Iruka pushed up his butt into that caressing hand without thinking, and the fingers stilled and squeezed.

"I want you to come back to me clean, so I suck your cock and taste your cum. I want to feel your cum fill me inside, feel it slowly dripping out after you've left me, feel it drying and sticky on my thighs."

"I'm clean now, Iruka. It may seem like I'm just saying that because I desperately want you to feel you mouth and to ride you bare, but think about Ibiki. Do you think he would dare send you someone that could give you a disease? Do you think he would do something that could hurt you so badly, make you unable to trust, perhaps even unable to work?"

Oh. Thanks. Thanks for pointing out that I'm an idiot.

"Iru—"

"Shut up, and get on your back with your legs spread, Neko, now! I've had it with your annoying questions!"

A whimper and the shifting of the mattress was Iruka's only answer. He moved over, finding the space between those spread legs. His hands ran up and down those legs, drawing out more whimpers from the body on the bed below him. "That's my Neko-chan, that's how I like to hear your voice," said Iruka, sliding down and lowering his head to kiss one thigh.

A moan filled the room, and the thigh under his lips tensed. Iruka opened his mouth and licked. He could hear another moan, but the taste of that skin, sweaty, salty, yet still oddly woody, exploded in his mouth like a shot of whiskey. He sniffed and licked, his hands moving to find that cock that had turned him into this nasty, greedy thing. It was hard, hard again for him after fucking him twice! He let his hands move over it, measuring it, memorizing it, taking pleasure in feeling it stiffen more and twitch. When he held it just so, he could take Neko-chan's pulse, feel the throb of his blood, feel the desire, the need—

"Please, please, Iruka," begged that voice and the hips bucked and thrust up.

"Still," barked Iruka, one hand flying to press down a thigh while the other flew off that cock only to slap back.

The sound of the slap was loud in the room, and Iruka froze. He had just slapped an ANBU nin's cock, he, a chuunin, had done that!

"Please, I'm sorry, please, Iruka, please, forgive me."

With a groan, Iruka lowered his head and sucked. Oh, god, the taste of cock, the feel of cock in his mouth, dear god, dear god. Iruka forgot everything, and his world narrowed down to his mouth, his tongue, his hands and the cock, the perfect cock, the cock that tasted like the woody red wines he loved underneath that welcome tang of precum. It had been so long since he had tasted that fluid of desire, and he couldn't get enough of it. He sucked and licked and moaned, now moving purposely, mindlessly after his goal. He wanted the real thing, a burst of cum in his mouth, spilling into it, filling it, shooting into his throat. He needed it, could almost taste it, would taste, should taste it. He moved his head faster, sucked harder, pushed down further, until at last, yes, at last! So hot, so much—yes, yes, give me it all, give me everything, he thought as he swallowed and sucked. He didn't raise his head, didn't let the perfect cock out of his mouth until he felt it begin to shrink and soften.

The firm thigh was a good pillow for his head. He would just rest a bit, a little bit, feeling the blood pulsing under his cheek, tasting cum in his mouth, feeling that pleasant stretched sense of a well-fucked man. Yes, just a little rest . . .

When he woke up, for a little while he thought it all had been a dream. But there was a hickey on his chest and another above his navel. In his trashcan, were two tied off, clearly used condoms. A red cat bowl was sitting on top of his dresser. And under his fingernails was dried blood. Blood! God, dear god! Iruka sat up in his bed; his hands pressed over his mouth, horrified. He had really done that! He was—Iruka's thoughts derailed as his stomach suddenly growled loudly, reminding him he hadn't eaten anything since lunch yesterday—anything but cock, of course. And his own cock woke up at that point, delighted to remember last night. Iruka flopped back down on the bed, moaning. He wasn't going to get any work done this weekend, none at all.

And he didn't care one bit.

Part II

To Iruka's surprise, he actually did get some work done that weekend. He felt amazingly good and was finally able to concentrate on his work without being swamped by physical frustration. He zipped through an amazing amount of work on Saturday afternoon. When Saturday night rolled around, however, he couldn't focus. Should he put out the bowl again? But somehow now that he'd slept with the cat-masked ninja, it felt like he would be cheating to just sleep with anyone. But it wasn't like he'd been on a date or anything. When he'd been frustrated at how masturbation wasn't satisfying him anymore, the idea of multiple sex partners had somehow seemed more acceptable. But now, after grading all those scrolls of his students, Iruka's sense of what was morally right was firmly back in control of his mind. He wasn't a slut.

But his mind kept replaying back memories of Friday night and that amazing ANBU nin that tasted like a woody wine. He, Iruka Sensei, had acted like a slut! But being a slut with one person was, well, sort of like being in love. Being a slut with a lot of men, well, that was just sordid and whorish. Today that whole "you are doing Konoha a favor by keeping her ANBU nins sane and stable" excuse for welcoming a lot of men into his apartment for sex wasn't really sounding compelling. Iruka set the red cat bowl on his kitchen table, got out a woody red wine, and began to drink and think. He finished one glass of wine and found himself hard. He went to the bedroom and lay on the bed in the dark.

With his memories of the previous night, it didn't take Iruka long to get off. He started as always with his smallest dildo, and it slid in easily. Normally he just worked himself with that one until he was ready for the larger one that was his favorite. But tonight, remembering Neko-chan inside him, his cock was dripping and ready to shoot after just minutes. What had finally taken him over the edge to spill into fluffy sock he'd put over his cock to catch his cum was thinking of Neko-chan out there, outside his apartment, using his ANBU surveillance skills to spy on Iruka. He was capable of doing it, capable of doing it so that a mere chuunin couldn't even sense it. Was he remembering what they had done last night? Was he off on a dangerous mission?

Iruka shook his head, trying to tell himself that what Neko-chan was doing was of no interest to him. He went and poured himself another glass of wine and relaxed in his bathrobe on the sofa, looking out to his balcony. The city's lights were pretty, he thought as he sat there trying to empty his mind of the image of Neko-chan spying on him. He probably should get up and close the drapes on his sliding glass doors. After all, with the apartment lights on, anyone who wanted to could see him sitting there in his robe. It wouldn't need special skills, beyond getting a good vantage point, and maybe binoculars if you really wanted to see close. Iruka giggled and sipped more wine. His head was swelling—yeah, right, as if an ANBU nin didn't have better things to do than spy on a boring chuunin like him. But maybe he didn't—Ibiki had made it sound like there were some pretty horny ANBU shinobi needing to get off who would just be waiting for Iruka to give them the signal he was in the mood with that stupid cat bowl. And yesterday Neko-chan had been there before he'd even set the bowl down, so maybe, just maybe there were some ANBU nins out there wanting him. Getting into his fantasy, Iruka activated his chakra, trying to identify if someone was watching him.

Fuck!

Sitting up abruptly, Iruka almost knocked over his wine glass. There really were nins out there spying on him. Discovering his fantasy was a reality was both more exciting and more terrifying than he'd thought. He took a big swig of his wine, set it down carefully, and once more activated his chakra. Oh, god, no mistaking it. In fact, the nins out there—all four of them—FOUR, FOUR, FOUR shouted his mind—must have sensed his first probe, for the four chakra signatures were now stronger and clearer. Two of them pulsed out, even as he studied them, hinting at immense reserves of chakra.

Dear fucking god! Horny, gay ANBU nins were flirting with him! Iruka took another drink of wine, nervously combed his hair with his fingers, and once more activated his chakra. No mistaking it—little pulsing flashes of chakra were telling him, "I'm here if you want me." And that one, the one in the tree across the street, that one was Neko-chan. Iruka could tell because the flavor, the subtle uniqueness of his chakra signature, had been imprinted on Iruka's mind while Neko-chan had held that darkness jutsu last night.

I should apologize, he thought. I feel asleep on him. Oh, god, god, he's there. Oh, my god, he—they—no doubt all know I went and masturbated! Iruka blushed painfully and ran into his bathroom. Once there he brushed his teeth, washed his face. Then he flossed because dental hygiene is important, he told himself. He looked in the mirror and brushed his hair. God, his scar was so awful! Most of the time it just was there and didn't bother him, but other times, well, he felt so ugly with it. But Neko-chan had been hard for him, wanted him, begged him! Iruka shivered. They had talked about doing it bareback. If he was going to get filled with cum, he really ought to empty himself out first.

Oh, my god, am I really going to do this? And they are out there in surveillance mode! But Iruka was already rooting in his cupboard and pulling out the box of enemas. He grabbed one of the clear bottles, pulled off the long cap, and knelt down on the bathroom rug. This was so undignified, but running to the bathroom and crapping out shit and sperm after sex was worse, much worse. Some bad memories surfaced in Iruka's mind from his first forays into gay sex back when he was a teenager and dumb enough to think condoms weren't needed. Yes, embarrassment before sex was better than after. He grabbed a towel and laid it in front of him on the rug for his face. He inserted the narrow plastic bit and squeezed, which never hurt and took so little time. It was the waiting that was so, well, humiliating, particularly if you were already erect and ready for the sex to come later. On the bathroom floor with your ass in the air and an erection, you looked, well, slutty. And those two to five minutes felt like ten or twenty.

In that awkward position, Iruka thought about having a regular lover—a lover who would be here with him, maybe rubbing his back, talking dirty to him, telling him how hot his ass looked . . . yeah, well, that wouldn't happen. Not that he didn't have a hot ass, but that wasn't the sort of thing that people just in it for anonymous sex did. No one having a one-night stand did that sort of thing. And maybe even some gay couples didn't either; it wasn't like Iruka had anyone to ask. Oh, well, he could ask Ibiki. And that made Iruka laugh so hard that he forgot about how silly he felt. He was still giggling as he washed his hands. But really, after someone talks to you about tearing your anus, what's a little enema talk, though Iruka. Hell, he might just ask him the next time he talked to Ibiki! And then he laughed—of course, he wouldn't!

Iruka rebrushed his hair, then decided on a quick five-minute shower. Deodorant, cologne, hmmm, well, there really wasn't anything else he could do in the bathroom. He was ready to be fucked, fucked bare, filled with cum. Yet, stepping into his kitchen in his bathrobe again, Iruka asked himself, do I really want to do this? Where THEY even still there? Topping off his wine, Iruka took a sip and then carefully set it down. A quick check with his chakra—HOLY SHIT! There were six guys out there now! But Neko-chan was still in the tree. There was no question in his mind that he was the one Iruka wanted—the only one. Iruka Sensei did not do twosomes, threesomes, moresomes! And only a slut would sleep with one man, kick him out, and then sleep with another. Blushing, Iruka turned out the lights in his apartment and went to the sliding doors. He stuck his head out and called quietly in that particular cadence he always heard other dog and cat owners use, "Neko-chan! Baby!" He paused in the door, unsure if he needed to do more. Then from behind him in the living room came a sharp blasting flare of chakra, so intense that for just a millisecond there was the blue glow of visible chakra. The smell of fresh cut wood filled the room.

Iruka giggled and shut the door. "So did my tom just spray his turf?" he asked.

"Yeah," came that rich voice he remembered, making Iruka shiver and his toes push down against the wooden floor, trying to curl back.

"You smell and taste of wood, Neko-chan. You're a wild forest cat, aren't you?"

"I'm ready to be domesticated," came the reply, making Iruka shut his eyes. God, that was too close to his private dream of having someone special, a secret boyfriend and lover, to be amusing. This was just about sex after all.

Iruka cleared his throat a little embarrassed. "Uh, I'm sorry about falling asleep on you yesterday. Do you want some wine? It has a great oak taste to it," he added speaking far too quickly to sound cool.

"Where you thinking of me when you sipped those glasses of wine?" whispered his Neko-chan softly by Iruka's ear, making him shiver again.

"Yes, I was, and it was you I was thinking of when I went and pleasured myself," added Iruka, already starting to forget his resolve not to be slutty.

"Iruka!"

It was just his name, but the passion, the almost moan, made Iruka feel suddenly so special, so wanted. This nin, who could flash visible chakra with precise control, wanted him, was waiting for his call, his requests, his orders. He could pretend that Neko-chan didn't just like his body, but rather, he liked everything about him. When he heard his name like that from Neko-chan's lips, it was easy, so easy to pretend.

"Get naked and kiss me, Neko-chan," said Iruka, undoing his robe and letting it just fall to the floor.

There was the sound of things hitting the floor, the sound of someone stripping putting all their effort into speed and none into stealth or neatness. Strong, naked arms slid around him and with a poof they were on Iruka's bed. His ANBU lover was too impatient to walk to the bed and willing to use chakra casually like that for him, Iruka Sensei, chuunin!

Iruka's arms eagerly embraced those big shoulders, his lips opened, and his tongue found and played with that woodsy-flavored one that he had been remembering all day. Sweet mother of god, Neko-chan's kisses were even better than he remembered! Or was it just that now they had begun to learn the best angle to tilt their heads? Were the kisses more potent because now they were starting to learn just what each other liked best? Iruka loved his tongue sucked into his partner's mouth, hard, then some lazy gentle caresses, tongue against tongue. Neko-chan seemed to like his tongue bit, then sucked gently.

Their hands moved over each other's bodies, retracing yesterday's touches, memorizing the curves and contours. Iruka felt once more each of his scars traced and caressed. He did his own searching for scars, and to his mortification, he could feel little raised lines on the shoulders of his lover—the scratches he'd made yesterday when he'd turned into an animal, the marks that had led to that blood under his nails this morning.

"I'm sorry," he said kissing one on Neko-chan's shoulder.

"Don't be. I like having your marks on me," whispered the voice that was becoming so familiar to Iruka. "Did you enjoy looking at the hickeys I left on you?"

"Yes," said Iruka. "And I want that one on my thigh, and I want your cum inside me tonight."

There was a growl, and Iruka's head was seized for another series of intense kisses. When their lips pulled apart this time, Iruka pushed a tube of lube into one of Neko-chan's hands. And then as if they had been doing this for years, he fell back on the bed, legs apart, while his lover settled between his legs, licking and kissing his thigh even as he slid the first finger into Iruka.

"Neko-chan," moaned Iruka, "oh god, yes, please."

"Please what?"

"Mark my thigh, leave me something to remember how good your fingers feel inside me."

"So this feels good, Iruka?" he asked, sliding in another finger just as he bit down and started to suck hard.

"Yes!" cried Iruka loudly. He pressed his ass down on those two fingers, pushed his thigh up to Neko-chan's mouth, moaning.

And his ANBU nin went a little wild—he sucked and bit Iruka's thigh, alternating little nips and intense hard sucks that were on the edge of too much. He had three fingeres in Iruka, and he wasn't doing much stretching—he was pumping those fingers in and out rapidly, making Iruka's desire explode. He completely forgot about not wanting to act slutty, letting himself go, "Yes! Fuck my ass with your fingers! Maul me, mark me! Yes! Like that!"

"I'll mark you, I'll scent mark you, Iruka! I'm going to spray my cum in you and fill this sluthole of yours full!"

"Now, dammit! Enough fingers! Give me your fucking amazing cock again! Slam it into me like you did last night! I need it, I need it bad!"

And Iruka's hips were jerked up, and his woodsy-flavored lover pushed into him—and stopped. Iruka cried out and tightened his legs around Neko-chan and tried to pull him in deeper, but he was no match in strength for the man partially inside him. The cat-masked ANBU nin restrained Iruka easily, saying in a soft voice that made the schoolteacher still his body to listen to him, "I know I can't, and I know I never will, but I want to mark you all over. I want to leave a band of hickeys around your throat, on your feet, on your wrists, so that even in your uniform they show. I want to fuck you until you can't walk without anyone knowing you spent your weekend on your back with a cock in your ass. I want to fill you with my cum again and again until my sperm has swum into every bit of your body, becoming a part of you. But I know that you aren't mine, can't be mine, but I can be yours. So don't hold back, Iruka, don't restrain yourself. Scratch me, claw me, make me bleed. Bite a piece of my tongue off if you want, scar me, give me something that tells me Iruka wanted me, Iruka loved me for one wonderful weekend."

Iruka screamed with frustration and disappointment, slapping at the body in the dark above him. "You jerk! You fucking jerk! Don't fuck with my mind, pretending to care even as you tell me you're never coming back! If you really wanted me, wanted me so much that you didn't want anyone else to touch me, you wouldn't be talking about just one weekend."

"Iruka, Iruka," he repeated, thrusting in and beginning a slow steady fucking, "Iruka, Iruka."

"I know my fucking name!"

But on each thrust in, his name was said like some sort of mantra, and the feeling of that cock inside him turned Iruka's slaps and struggles into clutching and tugging. When Iruka began to moan and tremble, the man above him began speaking again, using his cock to punctuate each phrase, "I'm someone who can't give you a name, can't give you my schedule, can't be counted on not to just vanish into the night at a moment's notice to be gone for a month or more. To ask you to be mine would be cruel and presumptuous."

"I'll be the one to decide what's cruel here," gasped out Iruka, trying not to be distracted by how good the smooth, steady rhythm felt. His fingers tighted on Neko-chan's shoulders, his nails digging in, as he burst out with, "What's cruel is teasing me with things you don't even give me a chance to accept! I went a year and half without sex, and you talk like I can't handle waiting a few months for you! Ahhh! Fuck! Right there, right there!"

Each stroke in was now pushing right into Iruka's prostate, and he had his legs now around the body above him, his hands on his lover's shoulders and back. He was clawing and scratching at them-not because his lover had asked for it, but because he couldn't help himself. "Yes! There! Please god, there! Neko-chan! Again! Again!"

A strangled cry above him indicated he'd finally pushed his ANBU lover past the point where he could take it slow. It was like that first time again—hard, fast, merciless. And then he came with a shout, and Iruka felt his cum, hot and wet deep inside him, and the body in his arms trembling with the force of his orgasm, and that was all he needed to come himself with an intensity that made him think for a second his heart was going to burst.

His lover rolled on his back, panting, letting Iruka lay on him. It was just the sort of sensitive thing that made Iruka know that this man was the one he wanted. He could have just fallen down on him, letting his weight crush him into the bed. Or he could have pulled out, leaving Iruka lying next to him, feeling lonely and abandoned. But no, even now, as his breathing was still heavy and uneven, his hands were running all over Iruka, stroking his back, playing with his hair, massaging the huge scar from when Iruka had thrown himself over Naruto to save his life.

"You reasons are stupid," said Iruka into the silence. "You didn't even mention the one thing that would make me hesitate to be yours."

"What, what's that?"

"You can't figure that out, Neko-chan? Why do I need a name, when you are my Neko-chan? What do I care about your schedule or if you have to leave me for a mission? I may be a just a chuunin, but I get summoned at all hours for duties, too. I know what it means to be a ninja. The big problem is that if I am going to be faithful to a lover, I need to see his face, I need to have that image in my mind to hold on to," said Iruka, his fingers tracing the eyes, the nose, the cheeks of the man beneath him.

And suddenly there was a little glow in the room, for just a brief moment. That quickly gone little ball of light showed Iruka big black oval eyes, a long, narrow nose, pale skin, pale lips, and a square jaw. As Iruka had known from his fingertips, there weren't any scars on that face, but the perfect, pale skin was prettier than he'd expected. It was a manly face, however, not remotely girly—a kind, gentle face, and one that Iruka would never forget.

"Neko-chan, my Neko-chan," cried out Iruka, his head descending to claim those lips whose color he now knew. It was a kiss that didn't stop, that kept going even as their body rolled over again, so Iruka was on the bottom. He felt his lover's cock swell inside him, hardening, as that tongue and mouth taught him that he knew nothing, absolutely nothing about how good a kiss could be.

And when finally that mouth pulled away, it was only to say, "Mine, my Iruka," before returning again to make love to Iruka's. And his body did the same—moving over and inside softly, gently, thoroughly, as if there was all the time in the world now. This, dear god, this is making love, and I love him, I love him, and I don't care if that make me a silly fool, thought Iruka. He wouldn't say the words, couldn't say the words with his mouth, but he could say them with his kiss, with each tightening of his ass muscles, with his fingers, his legs, with every arch of his back, every moan and shiver, with his wordless cries.

And afterwards, when Iruka lay there, unable to move or speak, that mouth moved over him, biting and sucking, marking his shoulders. Iruka let his eyes dwell on that spiky brown hair, that pale skin-

"Oh, no! Ibiki!" cried Iruka suddenly, speech and movement returning to him. "He said I couldn't see your face! He'll find out I did and punish you! You need to do that darkness jutsu again!"

His lover laughed softly, saying, "Iruka, don't worry. The no-showing-your-face rule was for you, just to make it easier if you met one or more of us later assigned outside of ANBU or retired from it. Ibiki wants you to be happy and comfortable. He knows how hard it is to be a gay shinobi, to be different from what people expect. And even if Ibiki did punish me, do you think I would care? To have my Iruka, I'd let him torture me everyday. If looking at my face gives my Iruka pleasure, he can look all he wants. Shall I turn on the lights?"

"Neko-chan," said Iruka, his voice showing how deeply those words affected him. "Your being hurt would bring me no pleasure, silly."

"Then what shall I do to please you, Iruka?"

"Cover me with hickeys where my students won't see, but a lover would. Touch me, caress me, lick me, spray me with your cum inside and out, so I smell like the forest woods, like you, so your scent covers me, covers my bed. Come to me when you can, anytime, don't make me put out that stupid bowl. Come to me just for a hug or a stolen kiss or to eat a meal, just come. Save all you kisses, your cock, you cum just for me, only for me, and I'll do the same for you."

"Oh, yes, yes, only for you, only for you, my Iruka," he whispered, lowering his head again.

Iruka's finger gripped his hair, holding his head away from him.

"What?"

"The lights," Iruka whispered.

"Yes?"

"I want the lights on," Iruka whispered.

"You want to look at me making love to you, don't you?"

"So what if I do? You're mine now, and I want to see all of you," snapped back Iruka.

"Can't," said his lover, dipping his head down to lick Iruka's navel.

"You said Ibiki wouldn't care!" protested Iruka, trying to pull up his lover's head by the hair.

"Don't want to stop," his Neko-chan said, then sucked Iruka's cock into his mouth.

Iruka's fingers tightened in that thick hair again, but this time he pushed down, instead of pulling up. "Don't stop," he agreed, "Don't stop."

They could wait to do it with the lights until the next time, because now they both knew there would be a next time, many next times. And then Iruka felt fingers on his balls, on his anus, and he forgot about everything but how good it felt.

The next day, when Neko-chan had to leave for a mission, Iruka wasn't doing too good with standing, and he had a hickey collection that made him look like his natural skin color involved blue-purple spots. But it was Neko-chan that looked like he had rolled in a rose bush, with red scratches showing from his the top of his high ANBU gloves to where his sleeveless turtleneck shirt stopped on his shoulders. One last kiss and the mask was on, then he vanished, leaving Iruka to slowly limp back to his bed.

But if you could have asked Iruka at that moment, he would have told you he had never felt better, that he didn't have a problem in the world. Now, if you waited until after lunch, it would be another story. Being told by his elderly landlady that four tenants had called her to complain about the noises coming from Iruka's apartment last night was worse than having Ibiki talk to him about his masturbation habits, no question about it. But when he'd locked the door behind her after an abject apology, he couldn't be too upset about it. There were worse problems than having a lover who made too much noise in bed.

Like not having a lover at all.

Like never knowing what it felt like to make love.

Like finding out the next day that your landlady had stopped Naruto from visiting him, telling him that his new lover had kept him up all night and he needed rest.

Like finding out that Naruto had basically told everyone he knew, including Tsunade, who now had a bet going on who his lover was.

But when darkness came on Monday night, and an ANBU nin slowly rose up out of his kitchen floor in front of him, all of Iruka's problems didn't seem important. And when that ANBU nin threw a certain cat bowl violently against the wall breaking it into a million pieces, Iruka just laughed. When the remains of his dinner and his students' scrolls were swept off the kitchen table, Iruka licked his lips. Even when his second best uniform was reduced to scraps, he couldn't bring himself to say one word of protest. When his lover's cock thrust into him, without any stretching and only a hasty handful of spit for lube, Iruka's arms flew around the body above him, and his mouth tilted up for a kiss.

Everything in Iruka's life was perfect.


End file.
